Page 25 of Desire

“We’ve missed you,” Mrs. Hartley replied warmly. “We should do this more often.”

“Take care of yourself, son,” Mr. Hartley added, clapping Dante on the shoulder. “And keep an eye on Emma for us, will you?”

“Of course,” Dante promised, his gaze drifting over to Emma one last time before he made his exit.

Exiting the house felt like stepping out of a sanctuary and back onto a battlefield. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing away the laughter and light that seemed so alien to his own experiences. Dante breathed deeply, the night air cool against his skin, a balm to the feverish anxiety that had persisted throughout the evening. As he walked down the path, the gravel crunching beneath his shoes echoed in the silence. He felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, relief mingling with a profound sense of loss. He had played his part well. The facade of friendship remained unbroken, his deeper desires for Emma buried beneath layers of self-imposed detachment.

The drive home would be long and solitary, the roads stretching before him much like the path he had chosen—a path of self-denial, where the gratification of his longing for Emma lay forever out of reach. Dante slid into his car, the leather seat cool and familiar against his skin, and started the engine, the purr of it somehow both comforting and isolating.

The hum of the engine blended with Dante’s thoughts as he navigated through the quiet streets, the darkness outside a stark contrast to the warm glow he’d left behind. His hands were steady on the wheel, yet his mind was anything but calm, tumbling over the evening’s events like a relentless current.

“Keep an eye on Emma,” he whispered into the silence, the words an oath and a curse. Protecting Emma from potential heartbreak meant chaining his own heart, locking away the part of him that craved to claim her, to explore the depths of her submission. It was the only way to safeguard their bond from the destructive forces of his own desires. A shiver ran down his spine as he imagined what it would be like to truly possess her, to see her willingly kneel before him. But those images were quickly doused by the cold water of reality—the understanding that Joey, his oldest friend, would never forgive him for marking his sister’s skin, even if every bruise was a testament to consensual passion.

Dante’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, the leather creaking under the strain. He could not allow himself the luxury of dwelling on what-ifs and maybes. He was a master of control, after all. And so, with the city’s skyline looming ahead, he fortified the walls around his heart, brick by brick, convincing himself that suppression was the kindest form of affection he could offer Emma. He couldn’t risk ruining his friendship with Joey and the admiration of her family over an impossible attraction. She deserved better than someone like him anyway.

Back at his place, he collapsed onto the couch. His thoughts drifted to her soft skin and how perfect she would look bound and gagged under his command. A shudder ran through him at the thought alone. He wanted her submission, her sweet moans echoing through the walls of his dungeon. Dante groaned, knowing he’d run out of time to avoid her. Tomorrow would be hell when he went back to work—being near her would only fuel his desire to claim her as his own.

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Chapter Seven

EMMA

Emma’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on her keyboard, but her mind was far from the email correspondence on her screen. Last night had been a disaster. All it had taken was a few minutes in Joey’s presence and she was back to being the kid sister again.

Even if she wanted to come clean to Dante about her identity, she couldn’t now. If she wanted to see him again, she’d have to keep up her façade of Queen Mab.

A flurry of girlish laughter pulled Emma’s wandering attention to the doorway of her office. Lila and Peaches, two of the admittedly beautiful but insufferably vapid models on Couture’s payroll, paused in the hallway just outside. At least they weren’t pushy or mean like Kiki had been.

“I heard Dante Ashton has a few open appointments this week,” Lila murmured, twirling a lock of shimmering blonde hair around one slender finger.

Emma kept her eyes studiously fixed on her computer screen, hands still as she strained to listen.

Peaches smirked, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “Think he can squeeze us in? I mean, everyone says his sessions are transformative.”

“More like transcendent,” Lila purred in agreement, eyes glinting with unabashed hunger.

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